Amnesia
by Heligena
Summary: Ok so another little ficlet for day three of Swan Queen week on the majestic Tumblr! Amnesia's the theme and I'm afraid Regina's the recipient in this one. It's short. A little dark. No romance to speak of but still worth a read hopefully. One shot for now, just like always though could do more if people want it...


A/N: Short fic for day three of Swan Queen Week- Amnesia being the theme. It's a little bleaker than I intended and I haven't actually seen series three coz the UK sucks balls but I gave this a shot when it came to me yesterday. Apologies if I bring you down, y'all my boo!

**AMNESIA:**

Alabaster white. Cerulean blue.

An uncomfortable mix.

Emma got slowly to her feet and brushed herself down, her hands feeling strange and rough against the soft fabric of her silk shirt.

Not hers actually.

The thing was actually wearing a little thin now, its tailor made lustre faded and the slender weave lax to the eye but it was a Wednesday and there was no way she was going to change the routine now. The shirt stayed. Even if one of these days she had to flash a few folks through the holes on her way through town.

"I should be going."

"Emma…"

She let out a puff at the familiarity of the strident tone.

"Snow…"

"It's not about that ratty old thing, I promise."

The blonde grits her teeth because she knows what her mother is going to say even without that caveat.

"Emma, don't you think it's about time you…"  
It always starts the same way. This day. This conversation. The world spinning round on a silent axis at a dull tilt, so droplet-slow that it could be mistaken for a tableaux rather than real life.

In fact since Emma had gone back and changed…well everything; stupidly and foolishly committed an act that had _seemed_ like the right thing in that one silver moment, sometimes she wonders if the universe itself had collapsed inward without anyone noticing and now everyone she ever knew was trapped with her here in this unnameable hell.

Where they did the same things, moved the same way and said the same things over and over, aware of it and yet unable to stop all the same.

"No I don't." She sighed trying to contain the retort coating her tongue. "And I'm going to be late."

A brittle laugh spurt out the brunette.

"Who'd notice?"

It sounded like a cruel attack and on her own daughter no less. An accusation of worthlessness few well-adjusted adults would know how to deal with let alone a screwed up Saviour with nothing left to save... but Emma knew that wasn't what the pixie haired woman meant. She knew there was some unwieldy attempt at protecting her buried in that cold question and some small part of her maybe even appreciated it, deep down but it also didn't stop the ripple of anger writhing in her stomach.

So she did what she always did. Ignored it. Sucked it into every little scar and pock mark on her skin and stored it away under their discoloration.

Shucking on her black leather jacket she simply pulled her curls free from the collar as she offered her mom a half smile.

"I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Emma I...don't get your hopes up ok?"

"See you Snow."

Always the same.

Then the door shut and she was free from the cloying tension and out the door.

Free to breathe clean air. Free to be.

Whoever she was meant to be in this new future she'd created. Or not.

_Fucking Shakespeare..._

The drive never took very long and today it seemed even quicker than usual. Tarmac and rubber in synchronisation with roiling skies. Before she knew it the Bug was pulling up next to the faded old security booth and the guard smiled with familiarity as he pulled the barrier up and allowed her through.

Hmmm.

Her usual space was taken by a grey SUV which immediately irritated her but she swung in next to the hulking thing resisting the urge to scrape along the side as she did so. Wednesday's weren't for childish displays. She might not know much but she knew that.

Wednesday's were about composure.

Composure.

An alien rounded word that she probably would have sneered at a year ago if she'd even thought it accidentally let alone let it slip from her mouth. The way things tended to when she wasn't paying attention

_Jesus, get your head on straight Swan._

Feeling the tension coiled in her shoulders, Emma forced out a hot breath so she could cleanse herself.

As if that could even come close...

Still. She couldn't sit out here all day.

As tempting as that might be.

Exiting her car, slamming the door with precision Emma strode up the marble steps of the imposing concrete building and slid in through the glass door. Oleanna, the slightly sour guardian of the gates who manned the front desk nodded briskly at her as she passed and Emma raised a hand in silent greeting before she stopped and waited in the short queue for the metal detector.

All the people milling about in the foyer looked about as fed up and listless as she'd ever seen people be and the thought made her mouth twitch upwards for a moment... but then she was waved through and her mind was splintered by the trippy whorls on the carpet that led to her destination. Cheap brown short hair carpet that slipped under her feet as if lubricated. The one that reminded her of wet fur.

Drowned dogs.

Somewhere to her right she became aware of a soft moaning emanating from a side room and the hairs on Emma's neck began to stand to attention at the deep seated misery contained in the animal sound. She strode on though, tucking the ends of her shirt tighter into her jeans as she rounded the corner and walked into the communal lounge.

Her breath catching in her throat as she entered.

Her eyes blinking wildly.

Habit kicked in before long though and her eyes started scanning the soft furnishings of their own accord, sliding into the cracks in the worn leather for recognizable features.

A few residents were clustered around the flat screen television in the corner watching what appeared to be a re-run of an old Poirot episode and sat at the table in the centre of the room, two young girls, one with a high straggly ponytail the other wearing an oversized Yale sweatshirt sat playing some old battered table top game.

But none of them held her interest for long.

She was looking for someone very specif...

_There_.

A high backed armchair facing away from her in the far corner of the room abruptly caught her eye. Not the chair itself actually, not that red-cracking hide bound to its frame but the brief glimpse of dull brown hair that retreated from view as she stared as if it had felt her gaze.

Emma's chest constricted as she saw it again.

Knotted emotions thickening her blood.

But she did what she always did of course. Muttered something inexpressible under her breath careful that no-one around could hear or copy it then took a step. One step then another hesitant at first but building to what most would probably call a normal gait by the time she reached the chair her eyes were unable to move from.

Shaking out her upper arms, willing the tension in her spine to disperse so she could at least sit comfortably for once Emma pasted a soft smile on, one that used to come so naturally she didn't even have to think about it and moved in front of the chair. And its owner of course.

"Hello Regina."

All that met her was a blank stare. Flawless skin with smooth lustre but no expression. No flicker in those dark eyes staring at the sparkling electric flame on the wall and no tremble of recognition.

Just a vacant shell mimicking the human condition by sitting so normally, legs crossed and hair hanging around.

Bile rose high in Emma's throat. She never could stop its ascension at the lack of response that awaited her every Wednesday and the most stupid part about the whole was that she never expected anything different to happen. What little optimism she'd clung to back in her youth was almost gone now.

And yet it was a sucker punch to the gut every time, closed-fist realisation whenever she came here and spoke those first words.

Sobering and laced with iron guilt.

_Damn it, _she winced inwardly_. Present not past._

_Present. _

Inhaling through her nose to allow her brain to disengage from the dangerous path it was on, Emma grabbed a foot rest from a few metres away, one with ancient rucked fabric and nestled herself on it in front of the catatonic Mayor.

Smiling, she reached out and tucked a loose lock of chocolate hair behind her ear. Neat and orderly just as Regina would like; although she imagined there would have been a few choice words had she tried that back in the day.

"Soooo looks like someone's modelling a new outfit today. Don't tell me you've found yourself a sugar daddy in here whose financing a new look?"

Her nose wrinkled then as she thought about what she'd just said.

"Actually I take that back, the thought of letting a guy dress anyone up like a mannequin is kind of…creepy. Don't get involved in stuff like that."

Her brain flashed to something Regina had once intimated about her life as Queen in the Enchanted Forest; that her title had been a poisoned chalice ...a position so openly coveted by everyone else around but once trapped in it, the reality becoming inadequate and …gruesome. That had been her word. Gruesome. And her stance had jerked instinctively back into something defensive. Protective.

Now she thought about it from what Snow had said the King probably _had_ chosen her wardrobe for the most part, enjoying the power of a supposedly small act- clothing his trophy wife in whatever slick or virginal fantasy he mainlined that day.

_Shit._

The famous Swan mouth struck again.

Jesus, she had more foot in there than teeth most of the time.

Emma shrugged it off though and let her fingers wander to the deep burgundy shirt that sat so delicately on the brunette's sternum.

"It's really pretty though. Classy you know… sophisticated I guess would be _your _word for it… since you're incapable of using ones with less than two syllables. I was always improper not brassy right? An exasperation rather than a pain in the ass?"

Emma chuckled at the memory of all the stupid little insults the former mayor had thrown her way over the years. "You know you're lucky Henry doesn't remember some of the things that came out your mouth. He'd never believe you were capable of being so 'unrefined.' Kid's got a blind side a mile wide when it comes to his Mom."

She leaned back placing her weight on her wrists, feeling the words begin to flow a little easier. "He's fine by the way. He's on this origami kick right now. The weirdo got a B on his history term paper last week and folded it into a praying mantis to celebrate. I wouldn't mind but I was going to put it up on the fridge as part of the 'real mom Olympics' I've got going on."

Unfocused eyes looked right through her, even at the mention of their absent son and the blonde held in the tremor threatening to break her spine.

"He misses you, you know. We all do."

She glanced at the floor. "She...she might not admit it but Snow…Mom… misses you more than any of us. I guess she always needed that daily fight you gave her to get through the day. Now she's all placid and weird, like her and Mary Margaret merged into some kind of freaky hybrid with the same face."

She rolled her eyes. "Right, right _amalgamated_ into some kind of freaky hybrid- geez you and your vocabulary."

Empty eyes looked through her.

"Even David seems listless. Whale says the poison from his island wound might have given his immune system a hit but…" she clamped down on her lip "…that's not it. It's not. He just doesn't know what to fight against anymore. The sacrifices you made, the ways you changed yourself into becoming a better person, they really messed him up. It's kind of impressive in a way what you did. He doesn't think so but..."

Narrowing jade, she searched Regina's eyes for any hint of satisfaction buried in the haze, any kind of familiarity borne of smug contentment at someone else's misery but there was nothing. Nothing but a glass doll in front of her.

A pretence of a real person.

And she couldn't help herself. Tears sprang from Emma's eyes without censure and she wiped at them furiously. She'd worn her usual brand of mascara the first few times she'd come to this goddawful place but after the horrors of Regina's condition became... apparent she had stopped putting it on before she came, precisely because she knew at a certain point during the visit all the remorse in her bloodstream would overwhelm her defences for a moment and she'd lose it.

There should have been some comfort in the expectation, knowing what was going to happen. But there wasn't. All that existed was the horrible rodent guilt in her bowels. At what she'd done.

What she'd stolen from a woman who'd had every dignity denied her from pretty much the moment she drew breath.

"Regina. I...I'm so sorry." Emma's head dropped onto a cold trousered knee as the sobs kept coming and her chest heaved despite her attempts to quell it. "I didn't know. I didn't think. It was never meant to turn out this way. If I'd known what would happen I never would have interfered."

_God it hurt. _

"You told me. A million times. All magic comes with a price and I...I should have listened but you were so bullish about it, you know. It felt like a game. No harm no foul. You knew it wasn't but...I should have..."

_Should have..._

There was no end to that sentence that seemed even the tiniest bit fitting.

She'd played with it like a Rubik's cube every night in the hours she used to sleep and still the pieces never came into alignment no matter how hard she tried to twist them.

"This is all my fault," she whispered forlornly, not caring that she was leaving a damp patch on the cotton underneath her. Any mark she could make on the other woman felt like an achievement these days, drool included.

It was cheap and a little disgusting but true.

"Um...excuse me?"

Emma's head snapped up; sure she must be hallucinating the husky sound of the other woman's voice. Wide green eyes blew wide as they locked onto chocolate ones that blinked furiously although they didn't deviate from the flames.

"Did...did you just say something?"

Regina kept blinking aimlessly, her face as unreadable as ever as it faced the fire straight ahead. But then...

Then she quirked her head the barest hint of a millimetre and a meek uncomfortable smile broke out on her face as she looked down at Emma nestling on her thigh.

Looked _at _her. Not through her but right at her.

"I...I did."

Emma s jaw clanged open at the same time her veins pulsed.

"I was wondering..."

"Yes? Anything?!" came the whispered reply.

Awe-struck.

"Has the bell rung for dinner yet?"

"Regina...I..."

_Shit, has it?_

The blonde was so shell shocked by the sudden turn of events that she snuck a glance over at the buffet table behind Regina almost on instinct.

"They're just laying it out- it'll probably be ready in about five minutes I guess?"

Regina's head bobbed in answer, the smallest of motions and somehow the largest too.

"Ok," she said. "Thank you."

Then her gaze slowly returned to the fire like the diaphanous moth it was, caught in entrancing light. Lost in the pockets of oxygen and heat.

"Regina?" Emma mumbled softly. "You still there?"

No answer came. No deviation from the locked gaze; no bending of that inscrutable look.

Not then.

And not an hour later when visiting times came to an end and a hushed klaxon signalled her need to leave the premises. To leave the Mayor alone with her demons once more.

"Goodbye Regina. I'll see you soon. Maybe you'll even see me."

Emma said her farewells with a whisper of a kiss to the older woman's sallow cheek and had just started making her way to towards the door when a tentative arm plucked at her elbow.

"Miss Swan?"

Turning at the sound of her name, she smiled with undisguised disappointment as a grey haired man with bristling jowls and a grubby white coat nodded a greeting.

"Doctor Djecko, how are you?" she asked rubbing the back of her neck.

"I'm well thank you. And how did you find Miss Mills today?"

Emma perked up. "She...spoke again."

The optimism she had been working so hard to hold inside burst out of her in that one word and she barely had the energy to feel ashamed for it anymore. She was all too aware of his kind hesitancy though when he took in the look on her face. She'd seen it more than once before today.

"Miss Swan..."

"It's Emma, Doctor."

He held his slender hands up. "Emma...we've been through this before. Early onset Alzheimer's is a cunning beast, you know this. The catatonic episodes are the easiest part to understand. But spontaneous speech, spontaneous response is part and parcel of the disease. It's a trickster Emma. A devil with a human face and it impersonates its prey simply for the enjoyment it gets from...well, from messing with us."

Her jaw flexed, "But it could be..."

He cut her off with a swift shake of the head. "No, it couldn't. I'm sorry to dash your hopes, it's not something I take lightly but this is not the sign of remission. There is no remission. Not when you've had it from puberty as Miss Mills had. Teenagers are the most receptive and the most at risk of mental illness as it is. Throw genetics into the mix and you've got a recipe for disaster. The records don't lie. I'm sorry but they don't. My years here at Avongreen don't lie either. As much as you wish they did. This is Miss Mill's future right here. Take a look around."

Emma wanted to scream.

Like a banshee; bellow with all she was worth, with everything in her lungs that Regina hadn't had anything from puberty except a shitty deal and a frightening ability to push her pain down into her subconscious mind. That she hadn't been institutionalised for the last eighteen years as those ridiculous records claimed, instead she had been...well, she'd been a glorious dragon. A battle scarred woman ruling over her own purgatory in small town Maine. With picket fences instead of Velcro straps and memoranda instead of writs detailing involuntary commitment.

That she had been a mother.

And a friend of sorts.

More than a marionette dancing to a madman's tune.

It was too demeaning to think that. Too fucking awful to believe all that life could be stolen away by her own unending stupidity. And she refused.

With every fibre of her being.

She refused.

That's what the Saviour was for.

Right?

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Emma?"

Emma lifted her gaze from the carpet where it had fallen and pasted on a smile. "I do. Thank you doctor"

She didn't.

"And I really appreciate your advice."

_She didn't._

But she had to play the game. The long game where lies had to be offered and bonds supposedly forged.

"I'll see you next Wednesday then?" she asked politely as she pushed up her sleeve.

"I'll be here. Just look for the guy with the stained tie, that'll be me."

Doctor Djecko laughed at his own joke before he shook her hand with consummate care.

She almost withdrew it for a second, worried as she was that he saw through her charade without feeling the sweat clinging to her palms but then he moved off to check on the afternoon meds round and she was free to go.

Chastised and pitied but free to leave at least.

Which was more than Regina got out of the deal.

Next Wednesday would be different though. She was sure of it.

Next week, something would change and things could go back to how they were before she'd set things in motion. They'd laugh about this and drink to her complete lack of common sense. To her suspect fashion sense. Hell, even her poor old Bug with its rusted locks and cottage cheese suspension.

And maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have to spend another night stuffing socks in her mouth so that Henry couldn't hear her cries.

Maybe.

Was there ever such a terrible word as maybe?


End file.
